


Motionless

by Samantha_Salami



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, F/M, Healer Harry Potter, M/M, Panic Attacks, Paralysis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samantha_Salami/pseuds/Samantha_Salami
Summary: Five years after the war, Harry found himself content with his job as a Healer. Saving people's lives seemed far better than hunting down Dark Wizard's like he originally had planned. But there was something stuck in his mind forever, a soul he should have been able to save, yet he didn't succeed. Malfoy got locked up in Azkaban, even after Harry spoke out for him at the trial. Maybe the guilt made him accept a visit to the deathly prison, no other healer cared to attempt. Or maybe it was concern, or even hope...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

Work in St. Mungo's was ever so often exhausting and extremely tiering. Auror's bulging in with life threatening injuries, even years after the war this phenomenon wouldn't stop. Kids played pranks on their friends with horrific endings, bleeding wounds and unconscious boys or girls were part of the daily routine. After the trend of a new kind of love potion, invented by none other than George Weasley himself, the rate of parents with lovestruck children has increased drastically. The scent of different potions and even some sort of Muggle disinfectant filled the air of the bright halls, sweeping through the doors filled with recovering and fighting patients. And in the middle of it all was Harry, standing in his light blue robes with a clipboard in his hands, a pen tucked behind his ear and a cup of coffee currently meeting his lips. The shift was already too long, ten or twelve hours maybe and he craved for some sleep. But it was summer, meaning first that all the children were home with their parents, creating more accidents that were treated by St. Mungo's, instead of the schools Infirmary. Second of all, the healers with family took some weeks off to spend them at home, leaving the single-healers at only half of the staff. More patients and less healers meant working overtime almost every day of the week. Harry, being the ever so caring person he was, worked seven days a week, fifteen hours everyday.  
Implying the latter, coffee became his best friend soon after getting the job. So the young man gratefully gulped two cups of strong black coffee, while stuffing half of a sandwich in his mouth. Normally his breaks weren't longer than five minutes, because the next life threatening incident would roll up almost immediately. As soon as Harry felt the caffeine kick in after the second cup, he quickly glanced at his clipboard to make out who he should visit next. There were almost a dozen other patients on his list, going from broken arm to high fever, so he chose something less tempting after the four hour surgery he just was a part of. A smaller boy with hurting wrists it should be. Quickly the man sat down his cup at his office desk, which was almost so full with papers they were starting to block the view to the chair. Tara, a beautiful young witch with black hair and dark skin, looked at her coworker with a sigh, shaking her head. Harry knew she worried about him being a complete workaholic, but there was no time for arguments about his health right now. Even though he gave her a reassuring smile in hope it would help her relax.

After just fully ten minutes of break Potter rushed to the room of his next patient, the little boy with hurting wrists. The name on the parchment read 'Michael Rave', so he opened the door with his greatest smile and a soft 'Good evening, family Rave'. The parents of the boy looked up at him quickly, two men as Harry recognized. They were holding each other's hand, worry glimmering in their eyes over their son. The boy on the other hand was sitting upright on the bed, rubbing his wrists unconsciously, while looking up to Harry eagerly. Harry always loved it when he saw gay couples, for some reason he felt a huge amount of sympathy to them. All the things they probably had to go through, just for being able to love who they wanted. And seeing them here with a kid, bright as ever, genuinely made him smile. 

"I hope your wait wasn't too long.", he friendly said, pulling out one of the chairs with rolls beneath it but without a back to lean on, so healers could use them to sit down while talking to their patients or looking at their injuries. Harry swiftly sat onto it, rolling in front of Michael who gave him a very happy smile. "So let's see what's bothering you with your wrists, shall we?"

Another eager nod came as an answer from the young boy. He held out both his wrists to Harry and watches him curiously, his smile constant on his face. One of the fathers carefully ran a hand through his son's hair, smiling proudly at his brave boy. Another smile escaped Potter's lips too, such a sweet bond naturally touched his heart. 

With care, the young healer casted a few diagnosing charms at Michael's wrists and then tapped his parchment once with his wand. Seconds after, words formed in black ink, describing whatever problem there was with the boy. 

Mild form of oligo arthritis. 

Harry flinched slightly at the words, even though they weren't the worst of possibilities. Still, a young boy growing up with arthritis is somehow always a little bit disadvantaged. 

"Your son has a very mild form of arthritis. As you may know, this illness normally appears for older people, but there are many cases of children developing it, too. There are very good therapies to keep it almost invisible. Personally, I would recommend Muggle medicine as it shows higher success than potions and it's way cheaper. I will give you a list of medicine and therapists, along with pain relieve potion for today.", Harry explained and made a note, which he would bring to the Potions-Departement of the hospital. Michael looked at his parents with a smile on his face. 

"Don't you worry Papa! Dad will never shut up if you start crying now.", he chuckled, hugging them tightly. "Thank you Monsieur Potter! Have a very nice day."

The smile was back on Harry's face as soon as he stood back up to get the potion and lists. The little boy was incredibly sweet and clever, trying to comfort his parents after he was diagnosed with a rather life changing illness. Children were truly something too good for this cruel world. 

"You have raised a wonderful son Mister Raves", he addressed to the two men, bowing slightly before leaving the room. There was a soft hum on his lips all the way to the Potions-Departement, making the receptionist there smile at his sight. 

"Potter, you truly are the only one here who can sing after a twelve hour shift.", she chuckled, shaking her head in disbelieve. Harry gave back a toothy grin, humming only a little louder in response before finally talking. "I just happen to recognize the beauty of a moment apart from the circumstances. Apart from it being the 200th time me seeing you today, how's life going Via?"

The witch laughed at his comment, Potter was still charming as ever. He never failed to make the whole staff smile at his happy attitude, something one could rely on, since there was not a single day in five years in which he wasn't the sunshine of all the people here. 

"Always better with you around Potter. Still no chance of getting that date I so desperately crave?", she asked, overdramatically reaching for her forehead as if she was about to faint. Both just chuckled at the question. 

"Never in a million years. No dates with coworkers, first rule of all. Right before being professional with patients."

Via nodded in understandment, still smiling at the man in front of her. She was never the one to be heartbroken or lovestruck, but Potter definetly was a good man and partner nonetheless. Whoever might be the lucky witch or wizard to gain his heart should consider themself as the luckiest living creature. Still she was happy to have him around, brighting up the darkest places at times. 

Harry was now grabbing the pen behind his ear and wrote something on a parchment, a list of all therapists who knew how to treat arthritic patients and names of Muggle medicine as well as some potions, each with price and some places to get them. He was always concentrated at work, giving his very best to make a good impact on other people's life. Soon after he finished, Via handed him the pain relieving potion and bid him goodbye, a smile still spread across her face. Now she was the one humming the song of Potter when he arrived.

Right after leaving family Rave, Harry found himself at an emergency meeting in one of their break rooms. The whole staff was gathered in there, all in a circle in front of two workers of the Ministry. They looked rather displeased, a frown covering their faces. Harry didn't know them, but from the fallen in eyes and haunted look on their faces, he was almost sure they had to do something with Azkaban. Those lifeless eyes could only be born inside these walls, Harry was sure of that. 

"I'm glad you had the time for this quick meeting. We need a healer for some... business at Azkaban. We can't give you full input just yet, but there is a prisoner who is supposed to get free this Sunday. All of this was very sudden and we had to find out that the prisoner has some sort of injury, inquiring a healer to look at it before we can let him free. So we need a volunteer to do this job. Who of you is sane enough to visit the absolute darkest cells of Azkaban without going crazy?"

There was deadly silence in the room. Most of the people here were young healers, way too young to put themselves through so much dark energy. They would completely break at the weight of this place, of it's way to get under your skin and hunt you to the day you die. So there was not much thinking before Harry eventually shoved himself through the other healers to the front. He fought the darkest wizard of all time, died and came back to life, faced dementors multiple times and faced death as a baby. Nobody else would be better for this job than him. 

"I will do it.", he simply stated, crossing his arms as soon as the two Ministry guys looked him up and down. They must be thinking he was a young bloke who wanted to show off, but as soon as Harry showed them his scar, they nodded with a content expression on their faces. 

"Alright, so it'll be. Mister Potter, please come to the Ministry at eight o'clock Sunday morning. Thank you for your time everyone."


	2. Chapter 1

Dark grey to black clouds were hovering over the sky in round motions, forming a circle around the storm in the middle of it. The wind made it impossible to move against it, dragging at every body and living thing in its way. There was thin rain falling with the wind, a feeling like needles digging into your skin and ripping you apart piece by piece. The center of the storm was filled with lightning, never ending and dangerously enlightening the flying dementors beneath them. A cold feeling made its way down Harry's spine, thinking of the deathly atmosphere of the prison. Azkaban was located on a single island in the Pacific, enchanted so nobody without a permission can leave. However, the past has shown that it was indeed possible to break out, still the chances were almost zero without help. A sick feeling approached his stomache and chest, making it hard to breath. Like a huge weight was pushed on his torso as punishment. There were so many people suffering in this insane prison because of him. Maybe some of them deserved it, but surely not all of them. Definitely not all of them...

Harry walked in the front of a little triangle of people, his robes swinging harshly in the wind and his now chin length, curly, dark hair also completely ruffled through the storm. Two steps behind him were the guys of the Ministry from their visit in the hospital and lastly a dementor following closely behind to check on them. Even though Harry knew they wouldn't do anything to him now, he couldn't help but remember the feeling of his soul being sucked out by these demons. The coldness closing around his heart was almost enough to tremble, but Harry was nothing like this small boy from Hogwarts anymore. And he was walking in the front of the group because he was Harry Potter, always the leader of adventures.

Upon arriving, the dementor opened several gates, all of them reaching double of Harry's height. Immediately Harry felt small, looking up to the gates of steel with a thick layer of black must on them. The young wizard grabbed his wand in a matter of defense, something he could rely on even though this place seemed to inject darkness into his veins. Darkness he couldn't fight with his wand. 

With his head held high the healer entered the horrifying building. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a glimmer only war veterans had upon facing yet another danger. After passing through a dark entry hall, enlighted by candles on the walls and a larger dirty chandelier hanging from the ceiling, Harry found himself at a reception. An old woman with silver hair and very prominent cheekbones looked up at the presence. She had the same dead eyes as the two Ministry blokes, soulless might be the best word for the expression. The healer couldn't imagine why anyone would work here without being forced to. The place was death itself. Without greeting or a smile, not like the receptionist at the hospital, who greeted everybody with a bright smile and polite welcome, the woman handed him a permission and a little bracelet made out of green wool. There was a little metallic pendant hanging from it with the symbol of healers. 

"This will give you all the rights to perform healing magic in these halls. All other magic is shut down completely. The two gentleman will bring you to cell 50680. Prisoner 7516 knows about a healer visit... at least we hope he does. The cell is on the fifth negative level.", she explained neutrally, going back to her work an instant after finishing. There were goosebumps forming on Harry's arms for several reasons. First, calling someone by a number took their whole humanity away and he truly hated it not to know what the name of the prisoner was. He would ask him. There was no way he addressed anybody by a number. Second, the basement was full with those who were put in here to die, a life sentence to say the very least. There was no daylight touching the criminals down there, nothing of the outside world. Only darkness, coldness and silence. Third, probably half of the people imprisoned here, were caught because he won the war. He put them in here. All the Death Eaters, supporters of Voldemort and other dark wizards were here because of him. Huge possibility that said prisoner might hate his guts. Well, there was no turning back now. 

Harry gave a curt nod before following the two men, still followed by this horrific creature. There was a long silence until they reached the fifth negative level. 

"Prisoner 7516 had a life sentence, but recent investigations have shown that he didn't commit a murder which caused the hard punishment. The rest of his crimes are cleared off by five years in here. Has been a long time since someone got out of this hellhole.", the shorter one explained slowly. There was something like guilt in his voice and terrifying seriousness at the last expression. Hellhole, yeah that's a pretty good description of this place. 

Their steps echoed through the stonewalls, as door after door flew by. There were numbers on each door, engraved in a metal plate. Only a small slide allowed food to be pushed inside and another allowed wards to look inside the cells. Behind one of these could be Lucius... creepy. 

Harry watched the doors flying by without really reading the numbers, the situation pulled on his nerves too much. Poor soul, imprisoned for a crime that wasn't his. Lost every hope and every life he probably once had in cause of false accusations. But once the men stopped in front of him, Harry snapped out of his thoughts without hesitation. The bigger one of the men looked at the healer with a question prominent in his eyes. Are you sure about this? Harry almost heard it coming only from the workers eyes. So he gave a curt nod before preparing mentally for the picture behind the door. He closed his eyes to shut out one of his senses, enough to make his body relax for a few seconds. The healers ears registered clicking and sounds of gravel scraping over the floor by the heavy door, which was being opened by the dementor. 

As soon as Harry opened his eyes, he realized he saw absolutely nothing. The room was pitch black, the light from the hallway didn't even make it's way over the doorstep. With somewhat shaky hands the healer pulled out his wand and whispered a quiet 'Lumos'. Quiet, because he didn't want to scare whoever was in here even more than they must have already had and only a dim Lumos to not hurt the prisoners eyes. Curiosity got the best of Harry as soon as he stepped into the cell. He looked around in search of something in the room, but his eyes had to adjust to the darkness for a while. So he just held out his wand and smiled softly. 

"Hello. My name is Harry, I am the healer you are supposed to meet before getting out of here. Is the light okay like that?"

Silence. There was no answer, but Harry made out that someone's breath was picking up at the mention of his name. He quickly turned to the side of the room he heard the breath from, but still saw nothing. 

"The man hasn't talked for three years now. Some day he would stop walking around and just sat there, never moved... not even once. Not even to get his food or anything. Once every two weeks someone casts a cleaning charm on the prisoners. We only know he lives because his eyes move sometimes.", the smaller man explained, looking as if the person truly got on his nerves. Harry nodded in understatement, moving to the corner he started to see a figure in. 

"I would appreciate a lantern Sir. I can't heal someone in complete darkness."

One of the man left after seconds of hesitation. Harry came now near enough to notice the horrid smell of excrements and a glimmer on the ground made him aware of a small puddle. Urine most likely. Extreme pity and some weird kind of rage formed in Harry's stomache. Once every two weeks? He wasn't cleaned from this for two weeks? For years now? What kind of inhumanity was this supposed to be?

"I will cast a cleaning charm, warming charm and I will move the light close enough so I can see your face alright?", he whispered softly, already flicking his wand to perform mentioned spells. The poor man must be freezing and had to be more than uncomfortable, sitting in his own urine for probably over a week. What a horrible life... 

After performing the charms Harry sat on the now clean floor, smiling softly while pointing his wand slowly to the man's face. First he made out pale skin, sickly pale, almost white with some remaining dirt covering it. Then he made out high, very much fallen in cheekbones. They looked as if the man was a living skeleton, so incredibly prominent were they. A pointy chin and sharp jaw intensified the skeleton look, completed by sunken in eyes and dark circles beneath them. No sleep at all, that was clear. Lastly the face was completed by piercing silver eyes, looking directly into his and platinum blond hair falling onto his forehead. Millions of thoughts abruptly halted at the intense stare, giving Harry something close to a punch in the throat. He couldn't breath. Malfoy.

Dozens of feelings mixed in his chest all at once. Extreme worry, Malfoy was practically dead and in no condition to live without help. Then fear, Malfoy could die like this and he probably would. Afterwards shock, Draco bloody Malfoy was sitting in front of him, unable to move and obviously completely broken. But most prominent of all, anger. Anger at the Ministry, anger at the wards, anger at the wizarding world for treating prisoners like literal shit, taking their right to live like it belonged to them! Harry would seriously storm more than one office after this encounter, but for now he had to help Malfoy. 

"Holy... shit Malfoy. These bloody bastards... don't look at me like I never swore in front of you. Merlin, you look like Death himself.", he whispered, carefully moving one blond strand behind Malfoy's ear with tears in his eyes. "I will help you alright? This nightmare is over, once and for all. You will never be alone like this again." Of course Malfoy was his former enemy, they hated each other back in school, but Potter already forgave his classmate for everything he had done. The boy had no other choice... and he clearly didn't deserve this just because he tried to survive. He never even deserved to be locked up in Azkaban, Harry knew that. 

"Where is the lantern?! And why are you standing over there like someone might break out?! Make yourself useful and give me some parchment. Owl St. Mungo's that I am bringing over a patient and they have to prepare a single room with bathroom, wheelchair approved and stationary. Now.", he demanded, fury dripping from his words as he was ripping the parchment out of the other man's hand. The friendly Harry was gone in a matter of seconds. There was only one thing he cared about right now. Getting Malfoy to St. Mungo's and finding out what exactly was wrong with his classmate.


	3. Chapter 2

Warm orange light filled the cell of Draco Malfoy, coming from a small lantern right next to the two men. Harry was currently looking him up and down as a first inspection, before muttering some spells and tipping his wand at the piece of parchment. Sadly not to his surprise, the piece enlarged itself to fit all of the injuries properly, skimming from head to toe everything that was wrong. 

Draco Malfoy:   
height: 5'9" (175 cm);   
weight: 64,2 lbs (29,1 kg);  
BMI: 9,5;  
Ranked: Extreme underweight;

Nose broken and healed incorrectly, occasional nose bleeding;

Lips dried out and infected multiple times;

Jaw broken and healed incorrectly, pain on left side;

Foul teeth with multiple infections;

Throat swollen, unusable to speak, tonsils infected;

Strong pneumonia to both lungs, no coughing possible;

Broken ribs, not healed yet;

Tumor between two vertebrae in the lower back, blocking nerves to the legs completely, therefore paraplegic;

Highly infected bottom area, infected bladder;

Infected skin at back, bottom and legs from being bedridden;

Frostbite at fingers and toes; 

Lack of sleep and extreme exhaustion;

Anxiety and panic attacks;

Harry slowly exhaled after reading everything carefully. Underlined parts were the most dangerous one for the moment being, apart from his incredibly low weight. The man in front of him didn't even weigh more than a child. Admiration for such strength built in Harry's chest as he looked into Malfoy's eyes for minutes without talking. Then he carefully squeezed his hand with a sad smile. 

"I'm forever sorry Malfoy. I know you can't answer me... so how about a yes or no system. For the beginning I don't want you to move so much, so let's do it like that: one long blink means 'yes', two blinks mean 'no'. Understood?", he explained softly, never leaving the familiar silver eyes. One long blink was his answer. 

"Alright then I ask some questions before I start the healing process. Do you want some water?"

One blink. 

"Did you vomit before after eating or drinking?"

One blink again. 

"So we try to keep it in?"

One hesitant blink. Harry smiled encouraging, taking a miniature water bottle out of his pockets. Then he whispered a spell to make it grow back to its original size. After another glance to the parchment Harry bit his lip and looked into the silver eyes once again. 

"Let me soothe the pain from your throat first. I don't want you to live through more of this than needed.", he explained quickly and laid his wand to the side. After seconds of hesitation, Harry placed his big rough hands on the prisoner's throat, almost like this one time back in school, where he choked Malfoy for saying shit about his parents. But this touch was gentle, careful to not hurt his patient. The blond man flinched at the touch, but as soon as he felt the soothing warmth of healing magic coming from those strong hands, he relaxed into it with a look of pure pleasure in his eyes. Harry chuckled at the sight of Malfoy gaping at this strange touch, looking much like a moaning mess being choked by somebody for a completely different reason. 

"Does this feel better?", he whispered with a soft smile, head tilted to the side. 

One long lazy blink answered his question, earning an even bigger smile from Potter. Malfoy watched the other man for several moments, before eyeing the water bottle with desperate eyes. Harry, being the observer he was, caught on immediately and helped the blond male to drink a few sips of water. The slender male practically inhaled every drop, licking them off his lips as if he was never to drink it again. 

"No need for a hurry Malfoy. You will get enough water I promise. And food. The pain will stop and I really hope I get you back on your own feet soon enough. Everything will be alright at some point yeah? I... I promise Draco. I patch you up myself if I need to.", Harry whispered, running a hand through the blond mess of hair on the other man's head. There was an odd kind of affection he felt towards his nemesis, not truly out of pity, not even based on his job as a healer. But Harry just wanted Malfoy to be protected and in safety. Said blond glanced at the other man with a glint of hope in his silver orbs, hand slowly reaching up to place it on Potter's chest with a thankful smile, tears forming at the corners of those beautiful eyes Harry adored so much. Ever since their staring contests at school, he became practically obsessed with the honesty Malfoy's eyes always held. 

"Don't you thank me Malfoy. I owe you one for the bathroom incident back then and for failing in your trial. And for not giving you a chance in first year. Just all of it. Sorry for everything I ever put you through Malfoy.", his breath was shaky as tears threatened to fall from his own eyes, blinking them away quickly. "Let's move on with your health then, shall we? Now can you point to what hurts the most right now?"

Draco slowly pointed to his ribs with a wrinkled nose, most likely from the movement he had to make. Broken ribs were truly a pain in the ass, you weren't able to move or to breath correctly. Everything just hurt. But this was maybe the weirdest of Malfoy's injuries. You don't just break your ribs by sitting in a corner. There were exactly two possibilities. One: Malfoy had a fight with someone. Two: Someone has beaten him up. A guy who couldn't even breath without pain was beaten up by a ward most likely. Second version was highly more likely, because there was nothing Malfoy could have probably done to cause a fight. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even breath. As soon as realization hit Harry, a deep growl escaped his throat. Whoever did this will get punished. 

"A ward did this?", he mumbled with narrowed eyes, ripping open his dirty shirt to reveal the injury. What he saw quickly became one of the most horrific things he would ever see. Malfoy's ribs weren't broken to the inside, like a punch would cause them to. No, they were broken to the outside, meaning someone grabbed Malfoy by his ribs as he was nothing more than a skeleton and pulled so hard that they bloody broke. 

"I will Crucio them. That's it, I will fucking kill somebody.", he hissed in Parseltongue, careful not to alarm the other men by threatening someone in their language. Draco looked at him with embarrassment prominent in his silver eyes. "I am not disgusted like you think Malfoy. I am disgusted that somebody can do something like that to another human being. You don't have to feel uncomfortable, I've seen worse.", he whispered reassuringly to his schoolmate. 

"I can't heal them completely here, but I can release some pain so we can get you out of here. Is that alright?"

Malfoy slowly blinked and looked at the other with disbelieve, when again strong big hands moved to his skin. Only seconds after Harry laid his hands on the deep purple bruises on both sides of Malfoy's chest, Draco felt exhaustion overwhelming him. As soon as the pain was gone, nothing held him awake anymore. So he blinked tiredley before falling asleep with his head resting in Potter's lap. Harry looked at the other male with a shy smile, shaking his head softly. 

"Sleep Malfoy. You need it.", he whispered, caressing the blond mess of hair again. Then he carefully moved his patient's head from his lap to stand up and carefully levitate the weak man. 

"Do you always treat your patients like this, Mister Potter?", the bigger man asked through gritted teeth, hatred filling his ugly brown eyes. 

"How I treat my patients is nothing of your concern, Sir. It's a true wonder Mister Malfoy is still alive in this condition. Him being someone I have known for many years gives all of this a very personal touch. I always care for my patients, but even more for my friends.", he paused to guide Draco out of the cell and into the hallway, glaring at the man before continuing. "I want the names of the wards who guarded him the past two weeks. I will personally make sure the person who treats another human like that gets their deserved punishment. Where is my port key?"

The men looked at each other with a strange look, gritting their teeth before showing Harry to the entry hall, where a port key was placed on a small table for their leave. Dementors watched carefully when Harry approached the small object, being held back only by the permission in Harry's pockets, which allowed him and his patient to leave to St. Mungos when needed. Without another glance to the other men Harry ported to the hospital, directly into the room it was connected to. Malfoy still levitated beside him, sound asleep and completely knocked out from exhaustion. The healer quickly moved the blond into the hospital bed, covering him with a thick blanket and connecting some charms to him, so he would be alarmed if he woke up or something was wrong. Another charm showed his vitals on a board. 

Only minutes after Harry arrived, the door opened slowly to reveal Tara, one of his coworkers. She was a healer too, not as experienced as Harry though. The woman was from Hogwarts too, only two years younger than Harry and a Ravenclaw. She was incredibly smart, but not as smart as Hermione or Draco were. And she had a huge heart, big enough for a Hufflepuff. This loving women eyed Harry with a concerned frown on her face, stepping closer so she could see if there was something wrong with him. 

"Don't look at me like I would break apart from a visit to Azkaban. Look at my patient rather. I'm surprised he is not dead! They really treat the people there like scum!", he explained furiously, one hand gesturing wildly while the other wrote down several potions. Tara dared to look at the man laying in the bed just now, clasping a hand over her mouth in shock. She never saw a person who looked like this. Something you would see coming from one of these terrible Muggle horror movies, not in the real world. But this was very much real, the young woman had trouble keeping her lunch down at the sight. 

"I don't think I can sleep tonight after seeing this... who is he?", she whispered, stepping closer with frightened eyes. Something about this terrifying figure felt familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. 

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, the one and only.", Harry huffed. 

"Malfoy?! Oh bloody Merlin... this is even worse than I thought. They... they broke somebody already shattered.", she whispered, tears stinging in her eyes. She didn't know much about the blond boy, except for the fact that he was a Death Eater at sixteen and had Voldemort living at his home. He was tortured and forced to help him kill Dumbledore. Everybody would be completely broken after all of this. And what did the light side do after winning? Not helping him, no. Sending him to prison for no reason at all. 

"I know Tara. He didn't deserve any of this.", Harry sighed. "I will help him okay? He didn't even kill Dumbledore... I failed on his trial. I tried to get the Ministry to give him just house arrest instead. But they wouldn't believe me for Godric's sake. Why am I Harry Potter when I can't even safe an innocent boy from a life sentence."

Tara smiled sympathetically at her coworker. Potter was always the savior of everyone. And she loved the side of him, which always tried to please everyone and save even the darkest soul from pain. Once there was a very old wizard, a true homophobic, who screamed at Harry, because he didn't want to be healed by a 'faggot'. The Chosen One just smiled at the other and managed to heal some pain in his back, something nobody else managed until then. Even though he had harder circumstances by a completely uncooperative patient, he did it. The man never even wanted to let him go after. They wrote each other every Christmas, even now. Of course this big heart would be able to include a broken Draco Malfoy without second thoughts. 

"Don't you worry Harry. You care so much about everyone. Malfoy will be just fine with you as his healer. You didn't get that award for 'Best Healer Of The Year' for nothing.", she smiled softly, ruffling the messy black hair on his head. How soft these curls were and how incredibly unlucky that no woman could ever claim them as theirs. 

"I feel flattered, but you are exaggerating. I am not the best."

The black haired male gave a lopsided smile. Then he looked at Malfoy with the softest eyes Tara ever saw. She saw the amount of emotions Harry felt about the other man, apart from being his healer. Emotions, far beyond from professional. 

"Come on. Let's go to Via and get your potions. You can tell me some stories of you two on our way.", she proposed. Harry hummed in agreement, already thinking about the best stories he shared with the blond male. There were a lot, maybe starting at their first meeting? Or his favorite incident of all time, Draco the cute white ferret. After some thinking the healer decided on their funniest stories, including the ferret, a bloody chicken that (almost) killed Malfoy and a snowball fight at Hogsmeade with unfair advantages on Harry's side.


	4. Chapter 3

Via shared her coworker's amused smile at Harry's very enthusiastic stories of the two childhood enemies. Of course both of them already heard some gossip from The Prophet about the animosity between the two, but first hand they were definetly more entertaining. 

"I guess I kind of missed him. My wizarding world always included Malfoy, from the very beginning. He was the first kid I met, back at Madam Malkin's. Nobody was around and he was just rambling about Hogwarts, wide eyes and a smile on his face. I haven't known any better than to refuse his friendship, but still. It haunts me. Maybe I would have been able to protect him from all this pain.", Harry recalled with a frown, light dancing in the emerald iris of his. 

Via and Tara both gave a thoughtful click of their tongue. "It's understandable that you miss him. He was one of the few constants in your life, always there and always up to something. In a weird way you could trust that he would stay.", Via answered, making Tara shrug nonchalantly. 

"What she said.", she added, leaning back against a counter in the potions-section. 

There were a lot of healers running around the small place, fetching everything they needed for their patients. The two potion-masters working at St. Mungo's had a hard time keeping up with all the injuries in summer, but most of the time everything worked out just right. Harry smiled at one of cauldrons, imagining Malfoy standing there in sixth year. The glances they shared, because Malfoy was so desperately trying to be better than him. He had felt so good back then, being better like Malfoy at potions, even if he cheated a little bit. 

But soon a frown claimed his face, his brows shaping a v; nose slightly raised. Sixth year has been utterly terrible, a complete disaster to be exact. Harry learned most of life's lessons the hard way, but some of them he wished to not involve other people around him. Growing up in a love-lacking family has proven to make Harry's experience on regular social encounters practically nonexistent. Hence this ridiculous accident in the girls bathroom occurred. Harry never forgave himself for his behavior, seeing a crying boy and almost killing him. Even with the hurtful past of the two, Malfoy never deserved anything like that. A sigh escaped Harry's lips, hand running through his midnight locks. He was such an idiot. But this was his chance to make up for everything, a chance he had to use. 

Alarm bells rang in Harry's ears, loud and clear. A small voice whispered the number of the room it came from. Immediately Harry recognized the number to be Malfoy's room, so he ran over to the table with the potion-vials standing on it, grabbed all of those for him and ran back to the room, robes swinging behind him so dramatically, Snape would have been jealous. Once the young healer reached the door, he opened it with his elbow, somehow forgetting the possibility of magic for a second. Inside Harry placed the potions on a small table on Malfoy's right, all the while eyeing his patient with worry. The vitals showed high blood pressure and high heart rate, combined with Malfoy's ragged breathing and wide eyes, the healer knew it must be a panic attack. 

Muscle memory did most of the job when Harry moved the upper side of the bed so Malfoy was sitting upright and he accioed a paper bag, his brain was mostly in shock all the time. Panic attacks always got to Harry, the helplessness in people's eyes and knowing they couldn't stop it without help. The black haired male wondered how often Malfoy must have lived through these attacks until he passed out, all alone in the dark, nobody there to care. 

Harry had to use all of his willpower to hold his tears back when he grabbed Malfoy's face with both hands, locking eyes like he always did in these situations. With his thumbs he wiped away the stains of tears on high, pale cheekbones. "It's okay Malfoy. Look into my eyes. Great great. You're doing great.", he moved Malfoy's hand to his chest, right above his heart, "Concentrate on me. You listen to my voice, do exactly as I say. Can you do that?" A shaky nod came from Malfoy, one fist clenching into the blanket and the other grabbed Harry's blue robes tightly. "Perfect. We will breath together, okay? You have to breath deep and slow. Now, in.", Harry instructed, breathing in through his nose right after the words left his mouth. Malfoy copied it with great effort, his bright silver eyes pleading wordless to make it stop. "And out."

After five minutes of concentrated breathing Malfoy was finally done with his panic attack, completely sweat drenched and trembling. But he wasn't hyperventilating anymore, which was all that mattered in this moment. Harry was happy that he managed to calm his patient down without use of the paper bag, it was always the last way out. Both former enemies sat on the bed together, Malfoy in the middle, his waist covered by the white hospital blanket, Harry on his left, facing the blond male. Malfoy's hair was plastered to his bony scalp, stopping right over pointed shoulder blades. 

"Are you feeling any better?", Harry asked in a whisper, drawing circles with his thumb on the blonde's hand. He received a tired nod as an answer, but Malfoy retrieved the hand Harry was holding to wrap his arms around himself. Surely the young man was cold, being so extremely underweight often meant that coldness got to them very easily. So Harry carefully stood up to get into professional mode again, shutting down all the awkwardness that would come with his following question. "Would you like to take a bath? You'll feel cleaner afterwards and it's nice and hot."

Silver eyes met emerald, Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Malfoy's head. Seconds after, which seemed far too long for somebody as intelligent as Malfoy, the blonde shook his head until his hair was again freed from his forehead. There was shame in those mercury eyes, even some fear if Harry wasn't hallucinating. It could have been some arrogance, too, Harry was still talking to Draco Malfoy after all. "Malfoy, you have to remember that I am your Healer, so I normally wash my patients. And sooner or later I will have to heal the infections at your bottom area. It would be easiest to do it now, but if you feel insecure about it, we can wait."

There was a sparkle coming from Malfoy's eyes, something that immediately reminded Harry of Quidditch. The former Slytherin always has held this exact sparkle in his eyes, when he has been determined on winning against Gryffindor, chin raised high into the air. The smile creeping onto Harry's lips was nothing but triumph. If this sparkle was still there, then Malfoy was not completely gone. He wasn't broken. With that thought in mind, Harry cocked his head to the right side, challenge written all over his face. He almost forgot how to get under his nemesis' skin, but now he remembered. Malfoy needed the thrill, needed the picking. 

"Scared, Malfoy?", he asked grinning, wiggling his eyebrows in anticipation. Malfoy mouthed 'You wish!', right to Harry's face and the latter chuckled lowly, happy that his former enemy didn't forget one of their favorite punch-up lines from old days. "Come on then. I promise I won't make it awkward."

With these words he casted a stasis charm on Malfoy's back and gently lifted the blonde into his awaiting arms bridal style, careful to not put pressure on any of the injuries. Malfoy grabbed Harry's robes again with his bony fingers, seemingly afraid to be dropped. Of course Malfoy couldn't fully trust Harry after only a few hours of civility, but that doesn't mean Harry's heart ached any less. It would take ages to get Malfoy to trust him, what if there was no time for that. What if there was not enough time for Harry to fully heal Malfoy, mentally. Harry wasn't a Mind Healer. He was only there to cure physical damage, but that didn't seem enough. It didn't seem right. Right there, when Malfoy clung to his robes with fear in his eyes, Harry decided that he was way too far gone to be only the Healer. He was already more than that. No matter how, he would he there for Malfoy until he was fully back.

The determination must have shown on his face, because Malfoy eyed his schoolmate with suspicion at the change of expression. Thoughts that all looked like 'What have I done wrong?' flashed behind silver eyes. Harry smiled reassuringly at his patient, giving him a gentle squeeze to his body. "You did nothing wrong, Malfoy. My thoughts just wandered to the near future, when I healed everything I can. I'm afraid that not everybody will be very enthusiastic to have you as their patient and I don't really trust any of the Mind Healers and Physiotherapist around here. But I must do... something. Not sure what exactly, yet."

There was a moment where silver eyes just looked into emerald ones, up until Malfoy carefully moved his head to rest against Harry's chest. His hand still clung to the light blue robes, but the small action of trust sent a rush of ecstasy throughout his body. "Make the best of the moment you live in and don't worry too much about the future.", an advice Remus left Harry whenever he was close to a full moon. "The future is not planned yet, you yourself have the power to change whatever obstacle you might see when you live the moment in the best way possible." With that in mind, Harry pushed aside all of the thoughts concerning 'after Malfoy is healed' and concentrated on 'how can I help Malfoy the best right here and now'. He carried Malfoy into the big bathroom connected to the main room and sat him on a small chair, placed there to help the Healers with their tasks in cleaning a patient properly. The bathtub was formed so a person could sit upright and lay their head back on a small sink, where their hair was washed. It looked somewhat like a sink at a hairdresser's saloon, connected to a weird looking bathtub. But charms made the whole thing very comfortable, the hard material of the bathtub was charmed to feel like a big chair and the sink felt like a pillow, so it was ultimately perfect to relax and calm down. 

Harry started the water on a lukewarm temperature, not too hot to hurt the sore spots on Malfoy's skin, but hot enough to provide promised warmth. His former school nemesis eyed his actions curiously, but mostly dumbstruck. There was a sick feeling in Harry's stomach, giving him reasons to believe that Malfoy was never actually cared for. Surely Narcissa never really bathed Malfoy as a kid, maybe a house elve did? So maybe he expected a mediwitch to help. Or maybe Malfoy didn't expect him to be so caring at all? They weren't friends after all and Harry, if were in Malfoy's situation, wouldn't believe his school rival would give two shits about him. The answer had to wait, eventually, maybe until Malfoy was able to speak properly again. What a terrible long wait for so urgent questions. 

While the sound of water flooding steadily in the tub caused a gentle, constant noise in the background, Harry grabbed his wand and looked at Malfoy with a soft smile. "I will undress you with a quick charm and get rid of these filthy clothes after the bath. Just don't be scared of the feeling, it's a bit weird to get undressed that way."

And with a flick of his wand Malfoy's clothes were gone, revealing the pale, bony body of the young man. A shiver immediately took over the small frame, hands tried to cover his bottom area, as well as arms tried to protect his torso and tears were flowing silently down his cheeks. Something inside Harry broke at the sight, the man looked so vulnerable and frightened, like a deer held at gunpoint. He had never seen his former enemy like that, terrified of exposing himself even for a trained eye. Even the diagnosis 'anxiety' didn't prepare Harry for the sight of this. 

He hesitated, one second, two seconds. He heard his heart beating in his ears, blood rushing everywhere. He breathed. In, out. In, out. And he knelt down in front of Malfoy, one hand on his bare knee, the other wiping away tears. And with tears on his own cheeks he pulled Malfoy in for an embrace, strong and steady. Malfoy buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, nails digging into midnight hair. "It's alright Malfoy. You're doing so good. Don't be afraid, I got you.", he whispered into Malfoy's ear, gently combing his fingers through thick knots of platinum blond hair. And like that they stayed, for how long, they both didn't know.


	5. Chapter 4

The embrace broke only when Harry felt a puddle of water forming beneath his legs, the bathtub was overflowing. The Gryffindor quickly stopped the water with a flick of his wand and vanished the puddle. Malfoy rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, sniffing silently. Both of them simultaneously started searching for the others gaze and when their eyes locked, they gave a small smile. Not in the need for words, Harry carefully lifted Malfoy into the bathtub. 

He didn't use a spell, however, but instead wrapped Malfoy up in his arms again, giving the blond Slytherin a form of protection and stabilization he surely missed from his days in Azkaban. Harry knew all too well from long nights with nightmares that even the biggest war hero needed a pair of arms around him to make him feel safe again. 

Truth behold, even in those moments he didn't feel safe. Probably a thing, which came with being on the run for a year. Those embraces never made him feel completely safe. Comforted at best, but not safe. 

Malfoy seemed torn between freezing into a life-size sculpture at Harry touching his naked body, bursting into flames through the heat that seemingly erupted from his cheeks and crying his heart out because he felt so incredibly vulnerable right there. Somehow none of these really sparked joy in Harry, even though first and second would have definetly given him a good laugh at school. The latter sparked memories Harry didn't want to relive. So the Healer quickly decided on engulfing his patient in stupid Small Talk, something he was fairly bad in. 

"So... Malfoy. You like it here? I mean, it must be nothing to what you are used to from your childhood, but then it's quite a tad better than Azkaban...", Harry frowned at his stupidity, probably he shouldn't mention the prison right away in the first real conversation. But Malfoy merely eyed him very amused over his shoulder, relaxing slowly into the bathtub. He barely shrugged. A small laugh escaped Harry's lips at the posh Slytherin, causing Malfoy to smile in contentment as well. 

"That's what I thought. Maybe I can get you to the VIP section of the hospital, the food there is at least far better than down here.", he proposed, wiggling his eyebrows in anticipation. A strangled noise escaped Malfoy's mouth, followed by a snort. Though by his lightly shaking shoulders, Harry could make out that he was trying to laugh. But the loss of his voice was also keeping him from laughing with any sound, hence the weird sounds. But instead of taking pity on the poor boy, Harry just started on laughing loudly, deep from within his belly. He has always been a rather positive person and even though the depressing atmosphere of Azkaban shut it down momentarily, it couldn't keep him from being happy altogether. Even if it meant laughing at his patients dreadful attempts on laughing without use of his voice. 

Malfoy turned in the tub to punch Harry on the arm, a small smile on his lips he seemingly tried to hide, but failed miserably while trying.

"I'm-...I'm sorry. I-I... You... Merlin you sounded like a dying seagull.", Harry pressed out between breaths and more laughter. Malfoy gave him his best glare from school, but the heat was lurking and Harry couldn't help but flash his most charming grin at the blond, all white teeth and sparkling eyes. 

From one moment to the next, Malfoy's smile fell, his eyes going blank in a matter of seconds. He looked down on himself, his chest, his hands, his long and knotted hair and licked over his teeth. 'Foul teeth', Harry remembered reading on the diagnosis parchment. With a small sigh Harry pushed Malfoy's head back into the sink and stood behind him. 

"I know there are no dentists in the Magical World. But we could visit a Muggle dentist, if you'd like to. They can do a lot of stuff with your teeth when you have the right amount of money.", Harry explained softly, letting warm water flow over Malfoy's head for a moment. The blonde closed his eyes slowly, relaxing into the warmth of the water. Harry decided on washing the Slytherin's head first and giving him a chance to relax, before moving down to the rest of his body. So Harry grabbed a bottle of shampoo, irony hit him when the scent was that of green apples, and gave some of it on his hands. He then started on rubbing it into Malfoy's hair, beginning at the top of his head and moving down slowly to his neck, rubbing slow circles and massaging his scalp delicately. Malfoy's mouth hung open at the sensation of Harry's hands spoiling his head like that. Owing to the ragged breaths leaving Malfoy's mouth, Harry could have sworn the Slytherin would have moaned, if been able to. 

Not to throw praise on anyone, but Harry was indeed the winner of last years relaxation award in the hospital. They had a very old, very grumpy witch living here with them, because she was too old to live alone and too picky with her caretaker. So they started a challenge three years ago, of course with consent of the women. They would take weekly turns on caring for the women and whoever made her feel best was awarded with mentioned title. Harry won the award first time participating and was actually pretty proud of this achievement, because the grumpy witch named Helena actually liked him.   
Therefore he wasn't all too surprised on how much Malfoy seemed to like his new program. Still it was a very funny sight to look at. 

"Not to interrupt your moment, Malfoy, but I should start on washing the rest of your body. I do also have a few other patients to visit once in a while."

Actually, that was immensely understated. Harry had tons of patients to visit, even seven more this evening and the clock already read 8 pm. But he didn't want to leave Malfoy, or make him think he was only a damn patient. He was not. 

Instead of looking offended, Malfoy merely nodded and moved up into an upright sitting position, head cocked slightly at Harry. The raven haired shook his head with a smile, kneeling next to Malfoy to be in a better position for his mission. Harry carefully rubbed some of the body wash they kept in the hospital between his hands, before starting at stroking slowly over Malfoy's arms. As Malfoy was probably hurting all over his body, Harry used the opportunity to give the ex-prisoner a gentle massage, pressing his fingers slightly into the few muscles left on the fragile body between his hands. The Slytherin didn't seem to mind at all, in fact, he closed his eyes again and just relaxed into the touch. That was until Harry reached the blonde's chest, where he slightly flinched and moved away from Harry. The black haired had only felt the hardness of ribs beneath his hands, enough to get an idea why Malfoy was so afraid. Option one, those broken ribs hurt again, option two, he was ashamed of the rest of his body. Harry couldn't really blame him, probably everyone would react this way. 

"No worries, Malfoy. Does it still hurt?"

The blonde man nodded hesitantly, as if the mere thought of admitting to his pain scared him. A small voice back in Harry's head whispered that most likely the guard who broke his ribs caused this fear in Malfoy. The strong hero-complex made Harry's hand twitch, a nervous tick when his magic was going wild. So he quickly focused back on his work, shaking off the feeling of anger. 

"We need to operate in several occasions in your case, but I wanted to give you some time to adjust to the whole situation. Whenever you think you're ready, we can start on your tonsils or ribs.", he explained, running a hand through his black hair and smearing some of the bubbles into it. Malfoy gave him a look of confusion, an almost instant indicator for Harry to facepalm himself. Right. Malfoy was in Azkaban for five years. "Oh right. I forgot. In the past years Healer's adapted a lot of Muggle-medication. They kind of cut people open under anesthesia and fix anything inside of the body that way. It works a lot better for some things than magic. For example magic couldn't help you with your tonsils, you would just have problems there forever, but Muggles just take them out completely, they are not really necessary to survive."

The face he achieved from this explanation was worth an Oscar. Malfoy had his eyes drawn open at the words 'they cut them open' and seemed positively throwing up by the time Harry finished with the image of just taking out an entire organ. To say he was terrified would be an understatement. As one could expect when their former enemy told them they would cut them open to rip out something in their throat, Malfoy shook his head vehemently and moved slightly back from Harry, showing him the bird all in the process. 

Harry simply laughed at the reaction, for a matter of fact, the surgery on tonsils was one most Muggles did as infants or children. To see a grown man, who almost served death sentence in the deadliest prison on earth while being starved and paralyzed, reacting as if someone just told him they would cut his head off, was fairly good comedy.   
"Malfoy this really isn't a big deal anymore. You will sleep peacefully and dream of something good and when you wake up you can eat as much ice cream as you want and most likely you'll be able to talk better again then. In some days we have to plan your back-surgery, too. If you ever want to walk again that is.", the Healer explained with a friendly smile. Of course Malfoy has always been a coward, he saw that in the war, but talking to him like he did to his smaller patients was another thing. When he saw the uncertainty in Malfoy's eyes he gently squeezed the other man's arm and smiled. "You don't have to decide anything yet. Maybe we can bring somebody to help with your decision? It might help."

After a short pause Malfoy nodded and lay back. Harry took his chance and finished bathing Malfoy, careful on the broken ribs and not touching any intimate body parts. Not that he didn't have to touch those parts anyways, because he had to put some salve onto the infections sooner or later, but something about his incredibly gay being didn't allow him to do that just yet. Maybe he would tell Val to do it. Well, maybe not Val, she would probably ask Malfoy some really uncomfortable questions. Tara? Tara would probably ask even worse questions. Merlin save him. Worst case scenario, he would tell Malfoy's mother to do it. Maybe that was appropriate. But he couldn't just owl her. 

Harry's inner tantrum was rudely disrupted by Malfoy tapping his shoulder, his lips forming the word 'parchment'. Why Harry could lip-read? Andromeda teached him soon after she lost her hearing, because she became very involved with other deaf wizards and witches, who mostly couldn't really talk. They formed words with their lips and did sign language. And after five years of talking to these people at weekends, when he took care of Teddy, he was able to read lips and talk in sign language fluently. 

Harry accioed a piece of parchment from the main room, together with a black feather quill and handed both to Malfoy. He wrote down a floo-address, together with a name. Angela Allard. The young Healer frowned at the name. It sounded both English and French, it felt weird on his tongue. And he didn't know who that was. The address was located in France, probably the reason for the French last name. Whoever this girl was, Malfoy must be really fond of her. If the puppy eyes he threw at Harry were any indicator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Lillyfox5522 so here is the first chapter with Angela! Her last name translates to 'noble' (at least if google is right) and I hope it's alright that I made her French! Thanks for reading and commenting :)


	6. Chapter 5

The next morning arrived way faster than Harry expected. Yellow and orange light flooded the entrance hall, where the Healer settled down after finishing off his patients. Outside the sun was already rising, an indicator for the time already being around 6 am. And Harry hasn't slept a second this night. A big yawn escaped his lips as soon as he settled into his office chair, sliding down to hide behind his pile of work. Besides him a small dark haired witch placed her jacket on the back of her chair, a calculating expression on her face. Tara poked her coworkers cheek, who was fast asleep after his yawn and startled him awake again. Harry groaned silently before opening his left eye, his usual cheery attitude being kind of down.   
"New shift?", he asked groggily. He had seen the young Healer leaving after he had finished Malfoy's bath.   
"You worked through the whole night Harry?"  
Harry honestly thought it was quite obvious, but instead of questioning his coworker's eyesight he simply nodded.   
"You worked non-stop for 24 hours and eight of them you had your ass placed in Azkaban. Harry you need sleep!"  
Now Harry groaned openly at the witch.   
"No shit, Sherlock! I was about to, but then you rudely interrupted my nap I so desperately craved."  
A glance to the reception reminded him of the new patients arriving in a few minutes. And Angela. Right, he wrote an owl to the address Malfoy gave him and the witch told him she would be there as soon as possible. Counting by the visiting times of the hospital, she would be there in about half an hour. And Harry had to be there for the visit. A desperate sigh left his lips, his hand ran through his midnight locks and with his middle finger and thumb Harry pushed his glasses to the right place.   
"Bring me some coffee please. I need to get some things done before this Allard girl shows up. Mainly covering up my all-nighter."  
Tara slapped his cheek softly, stern brown eyes locking with his emerald ones.   
"Harry someone else can take care of the visit. You should go home and get some sleep."  
The older Healer tried to give her his best death glare, apparently with no effect. Right when he was about to give in on the request, the light of the floo turned green, announcing a visitor coming through the flames. The moment a small young women stepped out of the flames, eyes a deep blue and hair dyed silver, body stature of a Quidditch player, Harry shot to his feet. He knew the name was weird. Not only was the whole pronunciation weird, he knew the name! She was playing for the Quiberon Quafflepunchers, a french team and in times of the World Cup, she used to play as seeker for the National Team of France. 

The night-sky-blue eyes of the women shot to Harry, a dashing white smile on her face. She held out a hand for the young Healer to take. Harry took it, pressing down a yawn which built within his throat. 

" 'ealer Potter. Eet's a pleasure to meet you.", she spoke in a thick French accent, smile never fading. Harry quickly cleared his throat and smiled. "As it is to meet you, Madame Allard. We expected you a little bit later, if I'm being honest. I am not quite sure if Malfoy is already awake."

The women laughed very melodically, before waving him off with a soft gesture of her hand. " 'On't you worrie, 'ealer Potter. Draco 'nows 'e will be waked by moi. Juste bring moi to 'is room."

Harry didn't know what exactly made him obey to her. Maybe her strong stature? Or his natural respect for french women, influenced by Fleur? Or maybe it was the 24 hours of work? No matter what exactly made him do it, he was soon leading Angela to Malfoy's room. His vision was partly a little bit blurry, he really needed a coffee at least. 

"Draco must be reelly 'appy to be treated by vous, Monsieur Potter. 'E talked a lot about vous."

Even with his sleepy mind Harry realized how weird this comment was. Malfoy talked about him? And from what he said this women expected him to be happy about Harry being his Healer? Honestly, Harry was quite sure of Malfoy hexing him as soon as he tells him about some of the treatments they have to go through. And as soon as he got his voice back he would tell Harry off for not helping him out of Azkaban and whatsoever. He was just weak from starving and all the pain, so he didn't complain as long as he got better. 

"Pardon me?"

Angela giggled in her melodic voice, a polite wave of her hand in Harry's direction made it look like he made the best joke of the century. "Oh Potter, you reelly 'on't kno'? 'Is fazer could probable tell your food favorite. Ze treacle tarte? C'est correct?"

The shock in Harry's eyes must have shown, for the knowing smirk on Angela's face. But before Harry could answer to her, or better ask her what else she knew about him from Malfoy's stories, they arrived at the blonde's room. Angela immediately stepped inside, a wide smile on her face. 

"Mon petit ours polaire!", she sing-sang on her way to the sleeping patient, who slowly opened one eye to look at the visitor. As soon as he realized who it was, he shot up into a sitting position and smiled brightly, arms open for a hug. The French women didn't hesitate on giving Malfoy a bone-crushing hug, a happy laugh erupting from her lips. The blonde flinched slightly at the obvious pain in his ribs, but didn't let go. 

"Madame... I must ask you to be careful with my patient. You are hurting him.", Harry told her hesitantly. Angela immediately let go of the blonde, who looked at Harry with a thankful smile. 

"Excusez-moi!", she gasped, delicate hand on her mouth. Draco waved her off with a grin, head cocked to the side. The Slytherin looked genuinely happy, nothing like the scowling and sneering git Harry knew all too well. Coming to think of it, Harry rather liked the smile on the angular face of his former enemy. After all those years, he finally looked like a small boy again. Malfoy lost the innocent, child-like look somewhere in third year. He was still happy at occasions, like Harry almost getting roasted by the Hungarian Horntail, but it was fading all the time. In sixth year the young Slyhterin looked lost and depressed, Harry shall know after his obsession over this year. And, well, seventh year was truly another brand. 

Seeing Malfoy happy like this after years of fighting on the wrong side with a madman in his own home, then several years of the deadliest prison on earth (without even a good reason), and now with a smile on his face at the sight of his... friend? What exactly were these two? Were they in a relationship? Or promised to each other? Harry read in one of those thick books about pureblood-familys that Hermione was so interested in that those kinds of families often promised their children to one another so they would strengthen the family line... or something similar to those lines. 

"I am glad you two are happy to see each other... I will leave to your reunion and... get some sleep.", Harry told them sheepishly, earning a smirk from Malfoy. Even though Harry could already imagine the 'Yeah, you look dreadful, Potter', Angela decided to give the imagination a new aspect, by giggling and nodding.   
"Oui, you zhould go, chérie. You look like a zomb."

The Healer opened his mouth in disbelief, shocked about a stranger making fun of him for his appearance. Even though he may really look like a walking corpse, strangers never made fun of him. He was, after all, the Savior of the Wizarding World and quite a celebrity. People usually refrained from talking anything but polite to him, the only ones making fun were Ron and his coworkers. But this women definitely had some of Malfoy's attitude. 

"Well yes... I worked 24 hours straight. If you need anything call for Healer Boujettif. She is a great Healer and has my full trust."

With these words a yawn escaped Harry's lips, a clear sign to make his way home and into the warm comfort of his bed. Malfoy smiled and waved at Harry, left hand holding the one of Madame Allard. Harry smiled back at his patient, bowed shortly and left the room to escape through the staff floo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Lillyfox5522 I hope you like the design of Angela XD. I have a lot of fun writing her French accent and I hope you still understand what she is saying.


End file.
